


What Dreams May Come

by mk_tortie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-27
Updated: 2011-04-27
Packaged: 2017-10-18 17:52:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/191595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mk_tortie/pseuds/mk_tortie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaise is having strange dreams. Remus tries to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Dreams May Come

**Author's Note:**

> Written for springtime_gen 2007.

_His eyes glowed red, red, red, and the pain was a crack of a whip and a thousand scorpions crawling his skin, a stroking dagger red hot, red, red…._

Blaise awoke with a start, his breath coming fast in the claustrophobic air of the tent. Sweat poured off him as he struggled to sit up. A dream, that’s all it was. A dream that he could escape by moving on again, of course he could escape it! Move on from Egypt like from France, from Italy, from Spain, from Morocco…

He pushed open the tent flap and stepped out into the night. The constant chirping of crickets and other animal noises he couldn’t identify was a calming cacophony. Putting one hand to his chest, Blaise felt his racing heartbeat slow to its normal comforting thump. He blinked the sleep from his eyes and glanced around the camp, trying to see if anyone else was awake. He could really do with some mindless small talk.

The camp was mainly a stopover point for Wizards Apparating to Australia or New Zealand – moving yourself such a distance was exhausting, and so they would sleep for the night here to regain their strength before doing the next leg to Singapore. Otherwise there was a high chance of Splinching yourself. Unfortunately that meant at – Blaise checked his watch – three in the morning, everyone was asleep. Except him. He rarely managed more than four hours a night these days, and really he was surprised  _he_  hadn’t Splinched himself yet. It was just that blasted dream which woke him, without fail, every night…

There was a small pool on one side of the camp, and someone had thoughtfully placed a bench next to it. Blaise slumped down onto the splintered wood and gazed into the cool water.  _If I could end it all…_  But no. He was stronger than Riddle, stronger than Malfoy stronger than Potter stronger than Snape stronger than Dumbledore, the fool!

A light touch on his shoulder made him nearly jump into the pool. He leapt up, ready to fight off or glare at whoever dared interrupt his thoughts. But on seeing who it was, he could do nothing but gaze in shock. ‘Professor Lupin?’

What on earth was Lupin doing here? Blaise’s thoughts quickly turned to anger. This was the last thing he needed, one of Potter’s messengers following him around.

Lupin looked as exhausted as Blaise felt. ‘Blaise Zabini… and I’m hardly your Professor anymore.’

Blaise frowned suspiciously. ‘What are you doing here?’ he said abruptly.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. ‘What are you doing here?’ he countered mildly.

Blaise looked into Lupin’s eyes, trying to read his motives. Nothing. He wished he was the type who could learn Occlumency.

‘Surviving,’ he muttered, and marched back to his tent.

  
~~~

  
 _His eyes glowed red, and a hundred beetles crawled under his skin, up up up around his throat and he choked as they spilled out of his mouth, into the blank pages swallowed up like ink or the blood when the ink ran out and his eyes glowed red like His eyes…_

Blaise shot upright, stifling the scream that threatened to escape his cracked dry lips. His hands shook uncontrollably and his stomach lurched. He could do nothing to stop himself leaning over and vomiting on the dusty earth inside his tent.

Still shaking, he crawled out of the front, desperate for some water. The bearded Wizard who owned the stopover had looked at him strangely when he had requested a second night’s stay, but he had got even less sleep than usual with the arrival of Lupin, and he didn’t think he could risk Apparating just yet.

Stumbling to the pool, Blaise gathered a handful of water and brought it to his mouth, the cool liquid washing more dust from his face than taking the acidic taste from his tongue. He gazed at his reflection in the rippled water. His face was pale, shadows marking his thin cheeks and hollowed eyes. His dark hair was slicked back with sweat, and his eyes were red…

 _His eyes glowed red…_

No! It was a trick of the light. It was the redness of tears forced out in his troubled sleep. A trick of the light. That was all.

Blaise stood up quickly, not wanting to see anymore.

Remus Lupin quietly watched him stalk back to his tent.

  
~~~

  
 _His eyes glowed red, and His eyes glowed red, and the diary pulsed and blood poured out like it poured from his wounds and the pain would never ever ever stop because the dagger in his chest was Him with the glowing eyes, the red red red red…_

Blaise was screaming when Remus woke him, and it seemed whole minutes before he could shake the boy (or man, now? He still seemed so young) awake. Finally, his eyes fluttered open.

They were red.

  
~~~

  
If feet could look surprised, then those that Remus could see as he fell to the ground certainly did. Blaise’s unconscious form, clutched in his sweaty hands, landed on top of him. Winded, Remus struggled not to vomit. He hated Apparating alone, never mind taking someone with him. Especially not cross-continent.

‘Professor Lupin!’

‘Zabini!’

‘It was  _him_ , then.’

‘Remus, are you alright?’

Someone dragged Remus to his feet and he saw the confused faces surrounding him, but he ignored their questions, instead gazing down at the boy shaking and twitching on the cold floor of Grimmauld Place’s kitchen. It was only the touch of a cool hand on his shoulder that made him realise he was swaying. 

‘Remus, we’ll find Blaise a bed whilst we work out what to do, and I think you could do with some rest yourself.’ Tonks sounded serious for once, and Remus nodded mutely. It was all he could do to drag himself upstairs and into the comfort of a proper bed.

  
~~~

  
He could still hear voices downstairs when he woke, although he didn’t know how long he’d slept for. A greyish light filtered through the curtains; it could be just past dusk or just before dawn. Stretching, Remus slipped out of bed (amazing, how rested he felt after just one night of real comfort) and pulled his robe over his shoulders, meaning to join whoever was downstairs. A cup of tea would be great.

Passing an open door, however, he was startled by the sounds of whimpering. He stopped, and knocked gently. When no reply came, he hesitated for a moment, before pushing it open and peering inside.

Blaise lay twisted and sweating in a mess of sheets on the bed. In an armchair by the window, Kingsley Shacklebolt seemed to have dozed off, his wand still trained on the moaning boy.

‘Kingsley,’ Remus said softly. The tall man grunted and slid further down into the chair. With a sigh, Remus walked over to him and shook his arm.

‘Kingsley!’

‘Wha… Remus?’ Kingsley pushed himself upright and blinked blearily.  
‘I must have nodded off!’

Remus grinned. ‘Why don’t I take over from you? I feel much better now I’ve had a nap.’

Kingsley nodded, and left in search of a bed. Remus took his place in the armchair, and waited for the boy to awake. Truth be told, he wanted an opportunity to speak to Zabini, in any case. There was something about his condition which didn’t add up. Harry had said that they wanted him as ‘ _a useful source of information_ ’. Remembering the boy’s eyes (and really, they were all just boys) when he had Stunned him, Remus was fairly sure that he had to serve some purpose that Harry wasn’t letting on.

When Blaise’s twitching turned to all-out thrashing, Remus decided that it was time to act. Striding over to the bed, he grabbed the boy by the shoulders.

Blaise shot upright, shaking all over, and shrank away from the older man’s hands. ‘Go away! He’s here, you have to get away!’

Remus took a step back in surprise. ‘Who’s here? You were dreaming, Blaise.’ Somehow, calling him by his first name seemed a lot more suited to the situation than the surname Remus would have used as the boy’s professor.

Blaise took a few deep breaths, and his shaking subsided. ‘Where am I?’ he said, his voice fearful. Then, obviously noticing who had shaken him awake: ‘Professor Lupin? Where have you taken me?’ A hint of Slytherin haughtiness returned to his tone, and he sat up straighter. ‘You can’t hold me captive. I’ve done nothing wrong.’

‘You’re not being held captive,’ Remus reassured him, although he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. ‘When I found you, you seemed rather… distressed. So I brought you here, where you’ll be safe.’

Hoping that that was true, Remus pulled the armchair closer and sat down. He guessed that the boy was mixed up in something to do with Voldemort, even if he wasn’t a Death Eater, but Remus remembered him from Hogwarts as fiercely independent. He had never seemed the type to go for blood supremacy and power struggles.  _On the other hand, who could guess the type for anything?_  he mused, a certain rat creeping through his mind. Still, something in him wanted to protect this boy. Zabini had always been somewhat ignored by Snape, he remembered. If Remus could give even one Slytherin a chance for redemption, he would do so.

Blaise was glaring at him suspiciously. ‘I was safe where I was, thank you,’ he snarled, seeming entirely unimpressed with Remus’ attempts at conciliation. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you returned me there, now we’ve established that.’

Remus gave him a helpless smile. ‘Sorry, I can’t. For one thing, I’m not Apparating cross-continent again for as long as I can help it. And I don’t think even you believe you were in a good position where you were.’

He leaned forward. ‘What on earth were you doing in Egypt? You were obviously in no state to Apparate.’

Blaise closed his eyes and said nothing.

‘What are you running from, Blaise? We can help, you know. You wouldn’t be the first who’s come to us…’

Blaise’s angry outburst cut him off. ‘I’m not a runaway Death Eater, you stupid fool!’

Remus flinched at the insult. It could have been worse, he supposed.  
‘So what  _are_  you running from?’ he ventured.

Blaise hugged his knees and stayed silent, but Remus waited. Eventually, the boy looked up. ‘The dreams,’ he muttered. ‘They’re the same, every night – if I go somewhere new, they get better for a night or so, but then after that He’s back.’

‘Who’s back?’ Remus asked softly.

Blaise ignored him. ‘All I can see is His eyes, and it  _hurts_.’

He shuddered, seeming to relive whatever pain the dreams put him through, and Remus frowned in confusion. What in Merlin’s name was going on? He could guess who the ‘He’ was – it appeared that Harry wasn’t the only one who was dreaming of Voldemort, then – but why should Blaise Zabini, of all people, be dreaming of the Dark Lord? He could see that the boy was no Death Eater – no Dark Mark, and definitely no mania beyond the usual Slytherin stiffness – so what was going on?

‘When did the dreams start?’ Remus probed.

‘Second year…’ Blaise said quietly. ‘But they weren’t so bad, back then… it’s only recently they’ve got completely  _awful_.’ The last word was said with such a pained expression that Remus got the full sense of just how bad Blaise’s nighttime visions were.

However, he was mostly wondering why Blaise and Harry’s second year struck a chord with him as being important in some way. It was a moment before he remembered. Arriving as a teacher a year later, he had heard some of the talk about the previous school year, and none of it had been very comforting. Someone had released a Basilisk around the school, and eventually little Ginny Weasley was taken into the (previously legendary) Chamber of Secrets, where Harry ended up rescuing her and killing the monster. They had never worked out how the Basilisk had been let loose, but after that, none of the warnings or attacks had continued, so Professor Dumbledore had reluctantly dropped the matter. Now, Blaise’s mention of disturbing dreams starting in second year made Remus wonder.

‘Blaise…’ he began hesitantly. ‘What do you remember about your second year, other than the dreams starting?’

The dark-haired boy looked down at his knees. ‘Actually, second year was really weird,’ he admitted. ‘I think I was ill for some of it – there’s whole chunks that I just don’t remember.’

Shocked, Remus stared at him. ‘And that was when the dreams started, too?’ he asked weakly. ‘Do you know why they started, at all?’

Blaise looked at him. ‘The Muggles would have a field-day with this,’ he said, sounding almost amused. ‘Freud and all that. It was when I started writing in my diary.’

  
~~~

  
In the dimly-lit kitchen, all eyes were on Remus.

‘… and then he showed me this,’ he finished, holding out the small, tatty, leatherbound book.

Harry took it and flicked through the dog-eared pages. ‘Blank,’ he said flatly. ‘He said it was his diary?’

‘There could be concealing charms on it,’ Hermione offered. ‘Let me look it over with Bill – I’m sure we’ll find any spells on it. And if it’s what we think it is…’

Harry nodded, obviously clued in to whatever his friend was intimating, but Remus (and he guessed most of the rest of the table, by their blank looks) was completely in the dark. Still, he knew there were certain secrets that Harry wasn’t ready to share, and he didn’t want to push him to reveal something dangerous. He handed the diary over to Hermione.

  
~~~

  
‘Nothing,’ Bill said flatly. ‘There’s a strong residue of Dark Magic, but any charms that  _were_  on this are long gone.’

‘But it’s strange,’ Hermione broke in. ‘They haven’t been broken, or just faded – it’s like they’ve actually  _passed on_  to something  
else.’

Remus thought of Blaise’s red eyes and swallowed. He’d told the others that part of his story too – he couldn’t be the only one thinking of it now.

‘Then we have to look at Blaise,’ Harry muttered. ‘I didn’t want it to get this far.’

Remus nodded, his suspicions confirmed. The red eyes and the Dark Magic all made sense to him. ‘I don’t know what it is that you two and Ron are doing, exactly, and I don’t need you to tell me if you don’t think it’s safe,’ he began. ‘But you think there’s some part of Voldermort  _in_  Blaise, don’t you?’

Harry and Hermione exchanged glances. 

Bill raised his eyebrows. ‘They said you were a good teacher, mate, but I didn’t believe how sharp you were until now.’ 

‘We needed Bill’s curse breaking expertise,’ Harry said, as if by way of explanation. It didn’t really make that much sense to Remus, but he nodded anyway. ‘And you’re right, broadly. The problem is getting it  _out._ ’

  
~~~

  
It wasn’t until some weeks after Harry’s glorious victory that Remus saw Blaise. The boy (or was he a man now? Remus felt he’d earned it) was stepping out of the bookshop, and Remus walked straight into him. It was only when he’d apologised and Blaise had rather arrogantly accepted it that they both realised who the other was.

‘Enjoying the sunshine?’ Remus said softly.  _No more dreams?_

‘Indeed,’ Blaise said, and Remus felt that he knew what the man’s smile really meant.  _Thank you._


End file.
